I'm sorry you're having a bad week, Nora.

Peace to you Nora. I hope the week leaves no marks, save a fading image in the rear view mirror.

Connie, how wonderful that technology can make this difficult time easier!

Kuick Kwestion for Kombucha Kueen Steph. (ugh. I'm so sorry about that. I could have resisted, but did not.)

Steph, please forgive me if I've already asked this question...did you say that you do not use ph strips to test your brew?

I'm on the 7th day of my first batch and a bit tentative about stopping the growth just yet. It smells super yeasty when I open the cupboard and I just can't tell if it is done enough.

I used the Anchor Hocking 1 gallon cracker jar, so the scoby is quite wide, but not very thick.

Also, I'm thinking I would prefer to let it set for a bit longer to get more fizz and fermentation.

Ack. Suddenly, the jar seems sort of 'telltale heart'y. It's up there, throbbing away and I can't stop thinking about it...as much as I kind of want to avoid it!

My friend made a chai batch that was supremely yummy. That may be my next move.

I forced myself to go to a wedding shower today for my cousin. It was mostly okay.

Social workers suck.*except maybe Buffista ones. Spoke too soon in re detente with my dad. He's back in Dick Mode...it's all too dumb and crazy, but it's all about the way half-brother gets indulged compared to the rest of us.(they are kind of...well, crippling him, if you'll forgive the expression, in addition to insulting my brother who steadfastly refuses to believe that Old Man= selfish, lazy, asshole.)

Wandering in from the charcoal grey so I can do a quick Birthday-Attention-Ho Drive-By! Thanks for the Bday wishes on FB, y'all! It's been a pretty nice day - slept in a bit, did brunch with Mom, did a few errands (incl Birthday Brow Wax, yay!) and went to a dinner party hosted by a friend whose birthday is also today (but who made sure to remind everyone that it's my bday too).

Thanks for being here, lovely & charming Buffistas. It means so much, even when I rarely have time to say so. Y'all were a greeat unbirthday present!

Now, start pelting me with JOY!

P.S. This is also your 2-day warning for the birthday of the also-fabulous Steph!

::winding up with a side-arm joy bomb::

Happy Birthday Epic, may this year be...well...EPIC!!

Packing continues to screw with my head. Here is why it screws with my head...

When I was 3 my family was evicted from our duplex by a new owner with a shot gun. I have flash memories of this event - and I know they are real because my parents would never have discussed this in front of me. It was just a few months before my father graduated law school and it didn't seem worth arguing the point... so we moved in with friends for a few weeks and then into an attic apartment, which I also remember in flashes.

When I was 7 my father hadn't paid the rent in far too many months. He concealed this fact from my mother by having the bills go to his law office. She found out when she got the eviction notice and the house was padlocked. My parents got permission to go in and bag up our stuff. It was all stuck in storage. My one uncle picked me up from school that day and we stayed with him until the end of the school year at which point my mother and (God bless her) moved to Florida with her 7 year old, 4 year old, and 3 month old to live with her mom "for the summer while B got his head together" which turned into a year. And he never really did get his head together. While we were gone the stored items were stolen, most likely by my father. Which means that one day I was 7 I went to school and never saw my home or the bulk of the things in it ever again. I have vivid memories of several toys. My grandmother was abusive - though just to me. And I lied about it to protect my mother.

Right after I graduated college our house burned and we lost all of our possessions yet again. By a bit too close of a margin, the only fatalities were the goldfish - for which we are truly grateful. To abuse Oscar Wilde... To lose everything once may be regarded as misfortune, to do so twice seems like carelessness.

So my head is pretty screwy about moving. And venting helps but the vent can be WAY bigger here than it can be on the book of the face, now can't it? I'm completely exhausted but can't sleep. Fortunately I have several nice bottles that are better killed than packed, so night cap it is! And possibly will be for the next little while!

I am very fortunate. I have dear friends helping me with packing and pep talks. I have dear friends helping me with shelter while I job hunt (NYC landlords? Don't like giving leases to temps. Go figure.) It will all be OK. Right now, however, it is really really not OK.

With any luck this very nice bourbon will kick in soon and I will sleep and not just type in a rambling, drunken, fashion.

And for the record, the Les Miz revival's Jean Valjean is my happy place at the moment. He sings like an angel and he looks like this:

[link]

The bastard.

::winding up with a side-arm joy bomb::

Wham! Right in the kisser!

Happy Birthday Epic, may this year be...well...EPIC!!

Thanks, Bonny!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow, Trudy, that IS a LOT of trauma to be tied to the trigger of moving/packing. It's no wonder it's doing your head in a bit - it'd be a wonder if it didn't. If nothing else, you can say that those other shitty results were the fault of the irresponsible adults in your life - but now YOU are the responsible adult in your life, so you make this situation be what it needs to be for you to be happy & healthy. I have every confidence in your ability to handle this with grace & aplomb (& liquor too, if that's what's called for).

Phooey! Trudy's link won't cooperate. I wanna see the pretty gifted & talented individual.